


Cold Comfort

by Mez10000



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Sjips - Freeform, Vampire Sips, character typical flirting, mentions of biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mez10000/pseuds/Mez10000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sips lived for Sjin’s blood. More accurately, he lived because of Sjin’s blood. He hated to say it, even in the privacy of his own mind, but Sips was a vampire. Not some monstrously deformed Nosferatu, he hastened to add, but a bloodsucker, nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

Sjin eyed the plate suspiciously. Steak and carrots were today’s meal, though the steak was a black charred mess, and the carrots looked limp and watery. Sips still couldn’t cook worth a damn, but Sjin did not have the heart to tell him that. Instead, he pushed the food around listlessly. Chewing seemed like too much energy to spend right now. Lifting the fork was a task in itself.

“I’m fine, Sips, really. I’m not hungry,” Sjin protested.

  
Sips snorted, knowing Sjin far too well. Sjin would push himself to the brink of starvation far too often, and Sips felt responsible for him being in this state. After all, if he had just reigned in his impulses a little, Sjin wouldn’t be exerting himself by taking care of Sips.

“Look, you big babby, I can’t have you fainting willy nilly on me while you have work to be doing. You haven’t eaten in hours, Sjin.”

While Sips’ tone could seem harsh to the uninitiated, Sjin had known the man long enough to hear the softness underneath. Sjin knew he was the only one to see this side of Sips, much to the confusion of the people around him. 

“I’ll eat, just not right now…”

Sjin stood up, and tried to walk away. He stumbled. Sips was there in an instant, supporting his friend by his shoulders. The ease in which he propped Sjin up startled Sips; Sjin had always been slender, but had he always been so easy to support? There hardly seemed to be any weight to him at all these days.

“You’re eating something  _ now _ , Sjin,” he said firmly.

Sips steered him back into the chair.

“Fine,” Sjin muttered petulantly.

Sjin realised Sips wouldn’t be content until at least some of the meal had been eaten. Sighing, Sjin cut a small chunk off the slightly less burnt edge of the meat and chewed on it slowly.

“This is really all your fault, anyway, Mister-fifteen-seconds-of-pleasure,” Sjin complained around his mouthful.

Sips winced, though not at the nickname. That was, admittedly, quite deserved. He was well aware that Sjin’s current state was his fault; he just did not expect Sjin to comment on it. Did he resent the fact now?  

“Which is why I’m making sure you eat now,” Sips replied, trying to keep his tone light.

This back and forth between them was nothing new. Sjin would always make the first move, with low sultry comments and joking remarks that both of them knew were more serious than they sounded. He could keep a constant stream of obscenity up like no one else could. Sjin would stay close, sometimes unbearably close, tempting Sips with his wiles - and Sips had to admit that the man had many wiles at his disposal.

Sips had memorised every inch of Sjin’s tanned flesh, always so near and available, should he choose. Sjin had made that abundantly clear. Every inch of him, from the immaculately kept mustache to the bones of his hips; the wiry strength hidden in his arms and the shapely muscles of his legs. Sjin has no qualms about showing his body, and Sips both appreciated the view and damned the man for his tempting.

Sjin wore a collection of scars with pride. Sips eyed them with a mixture of guilty shame and longing. One small, neat cut in the flesh of Sjin’s forearm was the oldest and neatest, made the day they met. A gaggle of rougher cuts surrounded them, with jagged edges and various states of healing. A single rough scar sat on Sjin’s collarbone, a stark reminder of the time Sips took things a little too far. That mistake wouldn’t be repeated, no matter how wound up Sjin got him.    
  
Sips lived for Sjin’s blood. More accurately, he lived  _ because  _ of Sjin’s blood. He hated to say it, even in the privacy of his own mind, but Sips was a vampire. Not some monstrously deformed Nosferatu, he hastened to add, but a bloodsucker, nonetheless. His ashen skin attested to it, and while sunlight didn’t seem to burn him, he was sensitive to the sight of the blindingly bright sun, and much preferred the shade of a dimly lit office. Sjin seemed content to carry out the bulk of any work they needed to do outside, so it tended not to be a problem between them.   
  
Of course, work in general was trickier with Sjin weak from a feeding session. While he would push himself to work no matter how he was feeling, lately even Sjin could not hide his dizzy episodes. Sips had never felt better, but he could not help worrying about the cost to Sjin’s health.

Naturally, with Sjin being as contrary as he was, he would never simply accept Sips looking after him without protest. Sjin was always so insistent that Sips get his fill, taunting him into daily sessions, yet never accepted Sips’ attempts to care for him in return.

“I’ve eaten,” Sjin announced, breaking through Sips’ thoughts.

“Barely.”

A small section of the steak and a few forkfuls of carrot had disappeared. Not exactly a resounding success, but it was not the worst Sips had ever seen. He would happily call it a win for the night.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Eager?” Sjin asked, with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

Sips laughed, grateful that Sjin had at least recovered enough to be his usual innuendo-driven self.

“ _ Someone _ has to haul your boney keister upstairs and I don’t see any other volunteers.”

Sips manovuered Sjin into his arms, holding him in a bridal carry. He wasn’t taking a chance on Sjin stumbling down the stairs.  Again he was struck with the idea that Sjin seemed so much lighter these days. Was he really losing weight, or was Sips growing stronger? He did have to admit that before Sjin had gotten involved in making sure Sips was taken care of, he had been far weaker.

“What’cha thinking about, Sipsy?” Sjin said.

“About how I should hurry and get that sweet little tushy of yours upstairs,” Sips lied, trying to match Sjin’s lightness.

Sjin frowned very slightly - Sips wouldn’t have noticed the faint wrinkle around his eyebrows if he hadn’t been carrying the man - but otherwise didn’t break the topic.

“Then hurry up, big boy,” he said with a little wriggle.

Sips found it all too easy to carry the boney man upstairs and lay him out on the double bed. He couldn’t help but grimace at the patches of old blood staining the sheets that they had both long since given up on washing out. The discarded bandages strewn across the floor told their own story. As he tried to stand back up again, he found Sjin’s hands weakly clinging to his chest.

“Don’t leave,” he muttered quietly.

“I just need to clean up downstairs--”

“It can wait. I’ll do it later.”

Sjin gave an insistent little tug, the weakest of little pulls into the bed. Sips moved into the motion anyway. Sjin clung to Sips like an octopus, wrapping his arms around Sips’ back and holding him in place. Sips could have easily broken out of the hold, but he relaxed, curling around Sjin. There was a quiet moment while Sips simply basked in Sjin’s warmth, and Sjin buried his face in Sips’ chest.

“You don’t have to look after me every time,” Sjin mumbled, muffled by Sips’ chest.

“You think I’m just gonna dine and dash? Sjin, who do you think I am?” Sips asked, mock wounded.

“But you aren’t even getting enough--”

“I’m getting more than I was,” Sips interrupted bluntly.

“I know you need more. You’re always reluctant to take it. And I want to give you more, Sipsy, but I can’t keep up with you. I--”

Sjin sounded so dejected, and even with his face hidden, Sips knew he was pulling that wounded puppy-dog look that tore him up inside. 

“Hey, hey, where’s all this coming from?” Sips asked.

“I’m not enough for you, am I? I don’t want you to have to go anywhere else. I don’t want to share you,” Sjin whispered, clinging a little bit tighter. “But you need more than I can offer, more regularly than I can keep up. I’m not good enough to be everything you need. You need to feed off someone else.”

Sips was stunned. He had had no idea that this was going through Sjin’s mind. Sjin had seemed his usual happy-go-lucky self, but he had to have been thinking about this for some time for him to be so insistent on this point.

“Listen here. I’m not going anywhere,” Sips started. “Do you remember what I was like before we started this? I was a wreck.”

“But--”

“Look at me, Sjin.”

Sjin slowly lifted up his head to meet Sips’ gaze.

“Remember when I first fed? I was so weak, you could push me around like a kitten. I was shaking. I couldn’t even bite properly, remember?”

“I had to make a cut for you,” Sjin said slowly, remembering.

“Yeah. I’d be dead - er, more dead, I mean - if you hadn’t been there. If you hadn’t let me drink. Now, I’m fine. I don’t need any more than our usual. Hell, I could probably stand a little less,” Sips admitted, glancing down at the softness around his belly.

“But, I’m always so useless afterwards, and you look after me so much,” Sjin protested.

“I  _ like _ looking after you!” Sips insisted. “I can’t remember the last time I cooked a meal before you showed up. I kinda missed all those little domestic things I didn’t need to do anymore. I don’t want to do them all the time, but while you’re not up to it, it’s the least I can do.”

“But you could always just find someone else to feed off, instead of wasting your time on me,” Sjin whispered.

“What the-? Sjin, what the hell? I don’t  _ want  _ to feed off anyone else, you big dumb babby. Where would I even go?”

Sips went quiet, suddenly realising that he would actually have to face up to his feelings for once. Well, if Sjin could, he was brave enough to open up for a moment, right?

“I was starving before I met you. I’d have died if you hadn’t found me when you did.”

That was perhaps an understatement – Sjin had found him in a ditch, covered in mud and badly injured. Sips had been too weak to move or even moan in pain, despite the agony coursing through his body. Sjin had thought, between the cold skin, the disheveled appearance and location that Sips was a corpse, but a quick investigation revealed a weak, sluggish pulse, and Sjin took Sips home, cleaned him up and tried to warm him by the fire.

Of course, Sips stayed unnaturally cold to the touch, and refused the soup that Sjin tried to get him to sip at. It took a lot of time for Sips to haltingly explain the situation, and why Sjin should have just left him to rot in the ditch.

“No one would let me feed from them,” Sips explained. “When the bloodlust got too much for me that asking wasn't an option anymore, I tried to take it by force. I don't really remember what happened, not fully, but they were prepared for me. There were more of them than there were of me, and they left me in the ditch to die.”

When he had explained his nature to Sjin, all those nights ago, Sjin had just listened with a tiny frown of concentration. No judgments or interruptions, just listening to the man he'd found in a ditch proclaim that he was a vampire. Then, Sjin did what no one else had ever done. Sjin did not have any qualms about letting a complete stranger bite into his flesh and drink his blood. He offered his arm freely. Sips still didn’t understand, all this time later, why Sjin had accepted him so easily.

Of course, back then, Sips was too weak even to break the skin on the offered flesh with his own teeth. It had simply been too long, and he was incapable of biting hard enough to draw blood on his own. Sjin had taken it in his stride, quickly cleaning a knife and drawing it across the flesh with a hiss. As soon as Sips saw the thick crimson well up to the surface he fell upon Sjin's arm, lapping desperately at the iron taste. He suckled at the wound for a long age, drawing every drop hungrily into his mouth, then biting down with renewed strength.

Sjin had been unprepared for how  _ good  _ it had felt, though. The initial pain of the bite as Sips deepened the wound still hurt, but as Sips remained latched, a slow creeping euphoria swept through him. Liquid pleasure sparked through him, erasing any minor doubts or concerns, leaving the heady breathless ecstasy in it’s wake. That slow pleasure spread into every limb until he slumped into a chair, relaxed and boneless.

Sips had withdrawn eventually, a slight flush tinging his cheeks and blood still smeared around his mouth and chin. Sjin could only grin at him, still half-out of it.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” Sjin had slurred.

It had been the beginning of their relationship. From then on, Sjin had always ensured Sips fed everyday, regardless of how faint or weak it left Sjin for the rest of the day. Sips half wondered if Sjin was addicted to being fed on. Sips suspected he produced a kind of pleasant venom to placate victims, though with no one else to feed on, he hadn’t confirmed that theory. He would never bring it up with Sjin, for fear he was right, and if he could not feed from Sjin, then he might as well go back to the ditch. So he did what he could to help Sjin recover and look after himself, and if it did nothing to silence the guilty voice in his head, that was between him and his sleepless days, wasn't it?

Back in the here and now, Sips was faced with an achingly vulnerable Sjin, and gathered his courage.

“I don't remember how I got like this. No one taught me how to feed, and by the time I tried, I couldn't feed by force, and no one let me. Not until you found me. You gave me a home and safety and if you think I'm gonna give that up... You are more than enough, Sjin. You have always been all I need or want.”

“But...”

Sips clung a little tighter to the skinny man. “No, listen, Sjin. Stop pushing me away. We can make this work – I  _ want  _ to make this work. And I think you do, too. We'll find a way to balance this out.”

Sjin made a little uneasy sound against Sips' chest, but held back any further protests. Sips would be a fool to think this was the end of it, but he knew he had to work slowly with Sjin. Whatever shortcomings the man thought he had wouldn't be solved with one little heart-to-heart, but Sips felt that something inside Sjin has been eased, if not totally soothed. It would take time, but they would get through this. They had to.

An existence without Sjin wouldn’t be worth living. 

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was probably the hardest thing I've written and I'm still not entirely sure why. Massive shout out to my lovely fiancée for beta reading this, since without her help, this fic probably wouldn't see the light of day. Also thanks to TricksterGodArt for drawing Vampire!Sips, making me realise this was a thing I needed to do, and needling me into opening up the file again when I really doubted I'd ever salvage anything good from that first draft.


End file.
